


weak link

by asexualrey



Series: the bruises and contusions will remind me what you did when you wake [5]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, Sickfic, Vomiting, lance's emotional issues, sorry lance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-08-15 09:47:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8051620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asexualrey/pseuds/asexualrey
Summary: The one thing he always wants when he doesn’t feel well is his mom, and she’s…god knows how far away she is. She probably thinks he’s dead.In this moment, he almost wishes he was.





	weak link

**Author's Note:**

> it's me, at it again ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ 
> 
> i need to stop

Lance isn’t sure what wakes him at first. His eyes open and he’s staring into the dark, because it’s still night—or what equates to night in the castle’s hours. His music is still playing, too, so what…

In the span of a few quick seconds, it hits him. He’s suddenly very hot— _burning_ —and can’t get out of his blankets fast enough. But as soon as he sits up, nausea creeps into him like searching fingers and wrings his stomach. He leans forward and grits his teeth, feeling sweat bead on his back and forehead. Pressing a hand to his mouth, he takes several deep breaths in through the nose and begs the sudden feeling of sickness to go away.

It doesn’t. There’s a deep, aching pain in his stomach and malaise is dripping through his guts like sticky-sweet syrup. His hands tingle, cold and numbing, and in a matter of seconds he feels like he’s drenched in sweat. He rips off his headphones and eye mask and shoves his head down between his knees. _Please don’t be some sort of weird space disease…_

His stomach groans. He knows what that means, but he tries to be optimistic and hope that maybe he just needs a drink of water.

As soon as he moves to get out of bed, though, his mouth floods with coppery-tasting saliva, bitter and sharp, and what little optimism he’d gathered vanishes as fast as it came. He bolts from the bed and stumbles blindly into the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before he’s doubling over and heaving all of last night’s food goo into the bowl—violently. It feels like a fist is squeezing his stomach, wringing it out like a wet towel. The sound of his own harsh retching is repulsive, but the sound of the vomit hitting the porcelain only makes him gag harder. Tears gather in his eyes and begin to stream down his face and his hands clench on the sides of the toilet and he begs his body to just _stop_ because _he can’t breathe._

And just when it feels like he might die, the fist gripping his stomach lets go. Lance gasps, sucking in air like he’d just emerged from a long time underwater, and slumps onto the floor, letting his head rest against the cool seat.He feels shaky and weak and honestly wants to cry. He hates throwing up. He hates being afraid of what his own body might do, hates the desire to crawl out of his own skin so he won’t have to endure this kind of torture. His stomach still hurts terribly and if the chills racking his body are anything to judge by, he’s got a fever to go along with it.

And he’s all alone. The one thing he always wants when he doesn’t feel well is his mom, and she’s…god knows how far away she is. She probably thinks he’s dead.

In this moment, he almost wishes he was.

He curls up on the floor, as small as he can make himself, and cries.

 

—

 

When the alarm goes off at roughly four o’ clock in the morning, Keith is ready. He’s a light sleeper so it doesn’t take much to rouse him, and it never takes him long to be fully awake. He’s in his gear and set to go within minutes, and the second to arrive at the control room just behind Shiro.

Allura is waiting by the terminal in her own suit, one hand on her hip and the other holding a ticker.

She’s run this kind of drill several times now. The alarms will be set off at random times during the night, and she’ll keep track of how long it takes each paladin to get to the rendezvous. It’s usually followed by a race to their Lions and forming Voltron as fast as possible, meant to keep their senses sharp and their reflexes fast, even when half asleep. It’s important, she says, since they never know when they’ll be called into battle.

Hunk and Pidge arrive at nearly the same time, almost a minute later. Keith nods at each of them, noting the bags under their eyes and the slightly irritated expressions on their faces. No one is really a fan of these drills, no matter how necessary they are.

They wait another minute or two, Allura tapping her foot on the ground incessantly, before Lance finally shows up. Keith rolls his eyes when the blue paladin staggers in, still mostly asleep, as more of a show than anything. Lance always looks adorable when he’s just rolled out of bed, all droopy eyes and messy bedhead. Usually he’s pretty fresh-faced for these drills, but this one must have caught him in the middle of a REM cycle. Keith would have dropped by his room to make sure he was up, but their relationship is still under wraps and with everyone rushing around to get to the control room in time, he’d figured it was better not to risk it.

“Lance, you were even later than last time,” the princess snaps, finger pressing down on the ticker’s stopper. “And you haven’t even put on your armor correctly! What do you have to say for yourself?”

“Sorry,” Lance murmurs. There’s not even a hint of energy in his voice. “I was sleeping.”

“I _know!_ That’s the _point!_ ” Allura huffs, but proceeds to put on her business face. “Alright, now that we’re finally all here, I want you to run code five. _Quickly._ ”

“Which one is that again?” Hunk asks, raising his hand.

Allura grumbles. “Did you not study the manual I gave you?”

Hunk rubs the back of his neck. “No, I did. A little. I mean, I can’t remember _everything._ ”

“Fine.” The princess huffs. She’s always got less patience in the early hours. “You’ll form Voltron, then make your defense in front of—”

“Lance, are you okay?”

Keith’s gaze snaps over to Shiro, heartbeat quickening at the question. He’s straightened up from his reclined position against the wall and is staring at the blue paladin with a furrowed brow. Keith’s gaze is then directed over to Lance.

His boyfriend normally doesn’t take long to perk up after being woken suddenly—and Keith would know. But that doesn’t seem to be the case this morning. Lance seems utterly exhausted. He’s leaning heavily against one of the pillars, looking like he can hardly keep his head up. His armor sits crookedly on his body, a testament to how slipshod he was about putting it on. His left shin guard is missing completely and his helmet is nowhere in sight. He’s never shown up this disheveled before. An even closer inspection reveals pale skin and red-rimmed eyes.

In a word, Lance looks awful.

A wave of worry swells in Keith’s stomach. He’d thought Lance was just still sleepy when he trudged in, but if Shiro’s concerned enough to interrupt Allura…

Lance almost immediately straightens and holds up an okay sign with his fingers. “Yep. I’m good. Aaay-okay.”

Keith frowns. Maybe he should have gone by Lance’s room earlier after all.

Shiro takes a step closer. “Are you sure? Are you feeling okay?”

Lance stumbles backwards ungracefully and holds up his hands. “Yep, I’m sure. Just didn’t get much sleep. I’m good, I’m good.”

Shiro stops at Lance’s reaction and doesn’t push him any further, though he still looks skeptical.

Hunk, however, moves forward. He looks worried. “Lance—”

“I said I’m _fine_ , Hunk,” Lance bites acidly, shooting an ugly glare at his friend. “I’m just tired, and I want to go back to bed, so can we please just get on with this drill?”

The flash of hurt that passes over Hunk’s face makes even Keith feel bad for him. Lance never snaps at anyone like that. Not seriously, anyway.

“You don’t have to be rude, Lance,” Pidge says, coming to stand by Hunk’s side. “We’re _all_ tired, okay?”

Lance deflates at that, and looks more tired than Keith has ever seen him. “Yeah, I know. Sorry.”

“Let’s get on with the drill, then,” Allura says, significantly softer this time. “Then you can all go back to bed.”

Keith steals a few more glances at his boyfriend while Allura runs over the protocol for the drill again. Maybe he really is just overly tired. Sometimes he has trouble sleeping; maybe it had been a bad night. There’s nothing Keith can do to stop the worry in the back of his mind from growing, no matter how much he wants to believe that Lance is okay like he says he is. There isn’t time to pull him aside privately to ask before Allura sends them all to their hangars.

It’ll probably be fine. They’ll get through the drill and go back to sleep, and Lance will be fine by the time he wakes up.

 

—

 

Lance is going to die. He’s going to puke all over his dashboard and break his Lion, and he’s going to die.

The emergency drill was the worst thing that could have happened. He had just managed to crawl back into bed and fall asleep after throwing his guts up three times and sobbing all over the bathroom floor when the alarm went off, which almost made him start crying again. But that would mean the team (which also means _Keith_ ) would’ve come looking for him, and he really didn’t want anyone to find him while he was still that big of a mess. Especially Keith. Their relationship was still a new, tentative thing, and despite all the times they’ve secretly shared a bed, he’s not ready for his boyfriend to see him puking and crying and miserable. So despite the roiling nausea and weakness and exhaustion, he’d hauled himself up and put on his uniform and dragged his ass out to the control room.

And now he’s in his Lion, shivering and shaking and slumped over in the accelerator chair. Blue is feeding concern and warnings into his head.

“I know, buddy,” he says as the systems come online. “I’m…I’m okay. Just help me out with this drill, yeah? Then I can go sleep this bug off. Can you do that for me?”

Affirmation from the Lion permeates his mind, even if it’s a bit reluctant.

Lance feels relieved. “Thanks, Blue.”

He didn’t anticipate just how hard it would be, though. The drill is simple enough, but he might as well be doing it blindfolded with how dizzy he is. Dizzy and nauseous. The twists and turns, the rising and falling that come with flying turn his stomach over and over in his gut and he never imagined it was possible to feel this _sick._ His back is pressed into his chair and his hands are trembling on the controls and he can hardly see straight. This is dangerous. He knows it is, but he can’t bring himself to say anything to his teammates.

He hears Shiro call to form Voltron over the comms. He’s not in the right frame of mind to be melding with everyone, but he begins to steer Blue in the direction of the rest of the team anyway. If he can just make it through the drill, he can go back to his room and die in peace.

A thought enters his head—a thought that isn’t his own, which means it’s Blue’s, but he can’t discern it. It doesn’t feel good, though. His head is so muddled. And he’s so _cold_. It’s cold in space, yeah, but his suit usually does a good job of regulating his temperature and keeping him warm. He can feel sweat drenching the body suit, too. _You’re not supposed to sweat if you’re cold, right?_ Man, he must be worse off than he thought.

“Lance, where are you _going?_ ”

The sudden, loud voice in his earpiece makes him start. “Huh?”

“We’re supposed to be forming Voltron.” It’s Keith’s voice, grating and angry, the way he usually still speaks to him in front of the team. “What are you doing?”

Lance blinks. Wasn’t he…? His vision is swimming a little, hazy and blurred at the edges and space all looks the same. He thought he was flying alongside the rest of the Lions, but he’s here and they’re all the way over there…

“I…” He swallows thickly and pushes the controls in the right direction.

The jolt of his Lion turning makes his stomach flip violently. He’d been ignoring the nausea until now, but it suddenly comes rushing back, hot and demanding, making him groan and fold over in his seat. He can’t… He can’t do this.

“You okay, Lance?” Hunk asks.

Lance can’t even answer. If he opens his mouth, he might puke.

He’s very much not okay. This was a terrible idea. He was incredibly, unthinkably stupid for trying to power through this. Saliva fills his mouth and one hand leaves the controls to cover his lips. He’s going to throw up. There’s no fighting it now.

“Lance!” Shiro practically shouts at him, the intensity of his tone letting on just how worried he must be.

His trembling fingers leave the other control stick and he curls in on himself. Blue’s concern is pulsing loud and clear at the forefront of his brain. His head touches his knees as he sucks in wheezing breaths. “I don’t feel well,” he manages, barely able to raise his voice enough to let the others hear him.

“What are you feeling?” Shiro says, obviously alarmed. “Can you get back to the castle?”

His mouth tastes like bitter, like pennies. Saliva spills from the corners of his lips.

And then the hand is back squeezing his stomach, painfully, and he retches onto the floor of the cockpit. Not much comes up, just drool and bile.

There’s shouting in the comm. He isn’t sure how much is directed at him, but he’s lucid enough to be embarrassed that everyone has to listen to him throw up.

When it finally abates, he doesn’t have any strength left to hold himself up. He tumbles out of his chair and onto the floor, his armor making a horrendous clacking sound as it hits the metal plating. He’s dizzier than ever, and all the yelling from his teammates and his Lion isn’t helping at all. The world spins impossibly fast before his eyes and he shuts them before he gets sick again.

He loses consciousness almost immediately.

 

—

 

Keith knew Lance had been lying about being fine. He’d told himself he’d be okay for the drill, but he knew that something was wrong. They all did, probably, but Lance had insisted he was okay so they’d trusted his judgment.

That was the last time Keith would make that mistake.

Worry had ignited in his gut the moment the Blue Lion began drifting away after Shiro had called to form Voltron. It increased tenfold when he began calling Lance’s name into the comm and he hadn’t answered for a solid five seconds.

His blood turned to ice in his veins when he heard retching in his earpiece. The awful gagging noises made him want to throw up himself.

Everyone is panicking now. Forming Voltron is the last thing on everybody’s mind, Keith is sure. Shiro is yelling Lance’s name into his mic, trying to get the sick boy to answer with no favorable result. Pidge is yelling too, through it’s not doing anything except adding to their collective panic. Keith doesn’t know what Hunk is doing. He’s gone strangely quiet. Allura is shouting for Shiro, trying to figure out what’s going on.

Lance isn’t responding, and that’s the only thing Keith can think about. He’s not pulling up a visuals screen either, and every possible worst-case scenario is assaulting Keith’s mind. He isn’t a natural worrier, but right now he wouldn’t mind admitting that he’s scared.

“Get back to the hangars,” Allura’s voice demands, cutting through the noise loud and clear. “The Blue Lion will bring Lance back, but we must be ready to get him out.”

Keith doesn’t hesitate to turn Red around. He’s able to breathe just slightly easier when he catches a glimpse of Blue steering herself towards the castleship. He still isn’t quite sure just how deep the robots’ sentience goes, but they always seem to know what they need to do when they need to do it.

When he finally lands, he’s jamming the switch for the ramp and nearly trips over his own feet in his haste to get out. Hunk, Pidge, and Shiro are in a similarly frantic state of mind, all rushing out of their Lions and ripping off their helmets before making a dash towards the Blue Lion.

“Stay out here,” Shiro says sternly as they all convene around the entrance ramp. “I’ll go get him.”

Keith’s brow lowers and he elbows his way through Pidge and Hunk more aggressively than he means to. “I’m going too.”

“No.” Shiro’s got his leader expression on, that cold look in his eyes and firm set to his mouth. “Stay here. You’ll just be in the way.”

Keith doesn’t know if Shiro wants to shield him since they have no idea of Lance’s condition, but he doesn’t care about good intentions. He just wants to know if Lance is okay. And he’s never been particularly patient, so he feels only minimally guilty when he shoves forcefully past Shiro and enters the Blue Lion, ignoring their leader’s shouts of protest. In the eyes of the other paladins, it’s probably a bit out of character for him to ignore Shiro’s orders for the sake of Lance, but putting up the front to hide their relationship is the last thing on his mind right now.

The first thing he notices when he enters the cockpit is the sour stench of stomach acid. He would’ve taken time to be a bit more repulsed by it had he not been so much more worried with the implications.

His eyes are immediately drawn down to where a heap of blue paladin armor lays crumpled on the floor, unmoving. “Lance!” He scrambles around the accelerator chair and kneels beside the ill boy, then quickly maneuvers him onto his back.

When he removes Lance’s helmet, another flash of panic lances through his chest, stealing his breath. Lance’s face is ashen, bloodless, and covered in a sheen of sweat. His hair is soaked with it, plastered to his skin the way it would be if he’d just dunked his head under water. There’s dried drool on his mouth and chin, dark bruises beneath his eyes, and his features are screwed up in discomfort. When Keith pulls off a glove and presses a palm to his forehead, he’s not at all surprised to feel a fever burning there, searing and bright.

He grits his teeth and his grip on Lance’s shoulder tightens. “Why didn’t you say something, you idiot?”

“How is he?” Shiro has apparently abandoned any disapproving feelings about Keith’s disobedience, because he comes to kneel beside him and the only emotion on his face is urgent worry towards the blue paladin. His dark eyes are trained intently on Lance, roaming up and down his form as he assesses his condition.

“He’s really sick,” Keith says.

Shiro feels Lance’s fevered skin for himself and a quiet curse slips from his mouth. “I knew he wasn’t feeling well. I never should have let him run the drill.”

“He’s the one who insisted he was okay.” Keith feels angry—angry at Lance for lying, angry at himself for believing him.

Shiro breathes out a sharp sigh. “Help me get him out of his armor. We need to cool him off as fast as possible.”

The next few minutes are spent in silence, stripping Lance out down to his body suit. His back and chest are soaked through and he smells, but it only ramps up Keith’s worry again. When the armor is off, Shiro doesn’t hesitate to scoop the limp boy into his arms. Keith follows him out of the Lion.

Hunk and Pidge are still standing in the same place, worry written all over their features.

Hunk takes a hesitant step towards Shiro, eyes widening when he sees the flaccid form in his arms. “What’s wrong with him?”

Shiro doesn’t stop walking. Keith keeps close to his side, near Lance’s head. “I’m not sure. I think he’s got some sort of virus or something.”

Pidge jogs to keep up with their urgent pace. “Why didn’t he say anything?”

Keith swallows and stares at his boyfriend with a sour knot in his gut. Lance’s head is hanging back over Shiro’s bicep, swaying limply with the black paladin’s quick steps. His usually healthy, brown skin looks so sickly and ashen and glistens with far too much sweat. It’s scaring him. They haven’t been in space that long; they haven’t encountered foreign illnesses yet. Keith honestly hasn’t given it much thought before, but now he’s wondering just what Lance could have contracted. They’re far away from Earth—there’s no reason to think this is a disease they’ve encountered before. And if it’s not, then what is it doing to him?

He notices Shiro tighten his grip on Lance a little, gray gaze still glued to his burden’s face. In a low, quiet voice that carries too much worry for comfort, he says, “I don’t know.”

 

—

“…the hell do you mean _inconclusive?_ ”

His head’s foggy. He’s been semi-conscious for a while—at least, he thinks he has. It feels as if some time has passed but he really has no way of knowing. He’s drifting somewhere outside his body, numb, sluggish. Occasionally it feels like something’s squeezing him, but it’s so distant it barely registers. There’s heat and there’s cold, far away but present enough to feel.

He doesn’t want to feel anything. He just wants to sleep.

But then voices begin emerging, when he starts to gain consciousness again, and he can tell he won’t be falling back asleep.

His senses come to him gradually. It’s disorienting and confusing at first, but as the fog begins to clear out of his mind, he starts putting pieces together again.

People are upset. That much he’s sure of. They’re also talking far too loudly.

“We haven’t encountered an illness with this set of symptoms before. We’re looking to find—”

“You mean there’s nothing you can do for him?”

That was Keith. Lance would know his voice anywhere. It always carries that unmistakable inflection when he says his R’s.

“I didn’t say that. We can’t put him in a pod but Coran is getting an IV set up. We’ll figure this out.”

“Shit. _Shit!_ He could be _dying,_ Allura—”

“Keith, calm down. Everyone’s worried. They’re doing the best they can.”

Shiro’s smooth baritone is comforting, reassuring. Lance wants to reach out for him, but his body isn’t responding.

A harsh sigh. “I know, I just…”

Keith’s presence is comforting too, but he sounds so stressed. Lance isn’t sure he’s ever heard his boyfriend use that tone before. He doesn’t like it.

He listens to his friends talk a bit more, hears Allura’s graceful footsteps exit the room, before realizing that his mouth is incredibly dry and tastes terrible. And that realization alerts him to the rest of his discomforts—a heavy headache throbbing right behind his eyes, the intense cold, an awful ache in his abdomen…an awful ache everywhere, truthfully. He moves his head experimentally and groans when he feels the nausea resurface.

“Lance?” Keith says. His tone sounds completely different now; hopeful and eager instead of angry and scared.

A warm hand presses against his cheek. It takes a good amount of what little strength he has, but Lance is able to open his eyes a bit.

Keith’s face is blurry, but he can definitely make out the relieved smile that spreads across it. “Oh, Lance, thank god.”

“Keith…” His voice is rough. It feels dry and cracked coming out of his throat. His throat hurts terribly, too, now that he’s thinking about it. “Whu…”

“Are you okay?” the red paladin asks urgently, looking more worried than Lance has ever seen him. “Are you gonna throw up?”

He’s able to shake his head and feels the soft give of a pillow beneath it. “Water?”

Keith nods. “Yeah, yeah, of course.”

When Keith steps back, Shiro takes his place. He looks worried, too. A flare of unease strikes Lance’s chest. Why are they both wearing that expression? He knows he’s sick, but they look more concerned than they ought to.

“Hey, kiddo,” Shiro says softly. “Good to see you awake.”

Lance doesn’t know what to say to that, so he continues to stare up at his leader with what must be a lot of confusion.

“You’ve been out for quite a few hours now.” Shiro’s using a tone that’s normally used on small children when you don’t want to scare them. It only adds to Lance’s anxiety. “You scared us all pretty good earlier. Do you remember what happened?”

His gaze is fixated on the shock of white hair that flops over Shiro’s forehead. It blurs in and out of focus. “I was…sick?”

A soft look of sympathy washes over Shiro’s face. He looks so paternal. If Lance was in his right mind, he’d probably tease him about it. “Yeah, that’s right. You’re still pretty sick, but you’re going to be okay. Just relax, alright?”

He gives the barest trace of a nod.

Keith comes back to his side, then. Wordlessly, he lifts Lance’s head up with one hand and puts a cup to his lips with the other. “Drink slowly, and only a little. You might throw up again.”

Lance’s eyes widen. How does he know about the vomiting?

Keith looks so attentive and concerned as Lance drinks, one tiny sip at a time. Something must have happened while he was unconscious. He remembers being in his Lion’s cockpit, feeling dizzy and sick and panicked, but can’t recall any details. He’d been trying to hide his illness—that much he can remember. He had been rude to Hunk. To everyone, really. Didn’t want them to see him like this.

That turned out really well.

“I’m going to let the others know he’s up,” Shiro says to Keith, and Keith nods.

Lance feels slightly less secure with the black paladin gone, but Keith tangles their fingers together and that helps a little. Physical contact always makes him feel better.

But when Keith turns a harsh gaze onto him, the reassurance dims. “Why didn’t you say anything this morning? No one would have let you run the drill if they knew how sick you were.”

Lance shrugs. “Dunno. Didn’t wanna get…yelled at.”

Keith tilts his head, eyebrows furrowing. “Who would have yelled at you? Shiro’s not like that.”

“Allura.”

“Since when have you cared if she yells at you?”

Lance looks away. How can he say that he didn’t want anyone to see him crying and sick and vulnerable? He knows he’s seen as the weak link on the team already. Nobody’s said it, but he’s sure they all think it. He doesn’t want them to see him at his lowest. Doesn’t want them to know he cries for his mother when he doesn’t feel well.

Keith sighs. “We don’t have to talk about it now, but you’re not off the hook.” He presses a hand against Lance’s brow. “Jesus, you’re burning up. How long have you been feeling sick?”

“Last night,” he croaks, because there’s really no point in lying about that now, is there? “Threw up a lot.”

“You should have told me,” Keith says through gritted teeth.

Maybe he’s right.

Keith places something cold and wet on his head, under his bangs. “Shiro had to drag your ass out of your Lion after the drill. We gave you water but you started throwing up again and nobody knew what was wrong. I… We were all really scared, Lance.”

“Sorry.” Man, he really wants to sleep. His body feels unbearably heavy.

A door opens with a hiss and a flurry of footsteps pound on the floor. Lance doesn’t even have time to turn his head before the rest of his teammates are leaning over him, eyes shining with an odd mix of relief and concern.

Hunk’s the closest and leans forward intently, a large hand coming to rest on Lance’s slender arm. The sheer amount of worry in the yellow paladin’s face makes his chest ache. “Lance, buddy, are you okay? How are you feeling?”

Lance tries to smile despite dry, cracked lips. “I’m okay. I’ll be fine, really.”

Hunk’s eyebrows draw together and Lance has just enough time to see moisture gather in the corners of his eyes before he’s being pulled up into a crushing hug. “Oh man, Lance, I—you scared me to death. Don’t ever try to pull something like this again, okay?”

Lance’s nose smarts. He nuzzles into Hunk’s shoulder and if his arms didn’t feel so achy and heavy he’d be clinging to his friend for dear life. Hunk’s hugs feel like home. “Sorry,” he whispers, breathy, barely audible. “I’m sorry.”

He almost sobs when Hunk lets go and lays him back down on the cold, sterile infirmary bed.

Pidge is next to Hunk, fingers clutching the edge of the bed in a white-knuckled grip. “That was a really dumb move, Lance.” They look away abruptly and Lance realizes that it’s _guilt_ evident in their expression. “You should have told us. I…” They huff and turn back to look at him, amber eyes soft but mouth set in a hard line. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier. I didn’t realize you were…”

Lance smiles again. “S’okay, Pidge. Sorry I didn’t…didn’t say anything.”

Pidge gives a tiny smile in return. “Just get better and we’ll call it even.”

Shiro’s on the other side of the bed next to Keith, towering over him like a sentry. He looks tired and worried, and a bit of Pidge’s guilt is mirrored in his face. “Why didn’t you say anything, Lance?”

He knows he owes them an explanation. He knows they’re supposed to be open with each other. They’re like family—they deserve to know. But the words stick in his throat. He already feels vulnerable and laid bare in front of them like this, exhausted and too sick to lift his head. What comes out of his mouth is a partial truth, which he supposes is better than an outright lie.

“Didn’t wanna…drag the team down.”

Keith frowns sharply. “If you’re sick you’d drag us down no matter what.”

A pang hits Lance’s chest and his eyes widen.

Keith winces. “I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. Shit, Lance, I’m sorry.”

It’s a reaction to fear. Lance knows that by now. But it still doesn’t make the ache in his chest go away, because he’s right.

He’s always the weak link.

Shiro smiles sadly and places a comforting hand on his arm. “You’re not dragging us down, Lance. But you need to tell us when something’s wrong. What if that drill had been a real battle? We wouldn’t have been able to form Voltron with you in that condition.”

Lance can’t keep his eyes from watering. Does Shiro not realize that’s the very definition of dragging the team down? He’s such a screw-up. He makes things worse even when he’s actively trying not to make things worse. It’s probably somehow his fault for getting sick in the first place.

“Sorry,” he whispers again.

He might have said more, but the ache in his stomach is suddenly seizing up, his insides flooding with nausea again. His eyes widen. He can’t—this can’t happen now, not in front of everyone!

Shiro squeezes his arm gently. “You don’t need to apologize. Just promise that the next time you’re not feeling one-hundred percent you’ll let us know, okay?”

He can’t answer. He swallows thickly, begging the rising feeling in his throat to go away, but it doesn’t. His mouth tastes bitter again.

“Lance?”

He tries to push himself up frantically, but his arms are like jelly. He gasps, unable to speak a single word.

Hunk’s solid arm wraps around his shoulders and lifts him up, and a bowl is placed in his lap not a moment too soon. He doubles over and heaves into it. The few sips of water he’d taken not long ago spill from his mouth, and even then his stomach doesn’t seem to realize there’s nothing left to get out. He gags and retches hard, begging his body just to stop and let him breathe, but it doesn’t. His abused abdominal muscles burn and ache as they clench to wring his stomach out.

By the time it finally tapers off, tears are streaming down his face and he can’t hold himself up. He falls back into Hunk’s arms, which haven’t released their hold on him this whole time, and gasps desperately for air. Hunk rubs a hand up and down his arm soothingly. Lance can hear the team speaking in panicked tones, but he can’t make out words over his ragged breathing.

It takes a while to calm down. By then, Allura and Coran have joined them. They’re setting up some sort of stand by the bed and running a long tube to his mattress.

“We can’t put him in a pod while he’s vomiting like this,” Allura is saying to the group. “But this solution will keep him nourished and hydrated. We’re doing all we can to find a cure. Until then—”

“Lance?” Hunk says. “You with us?”

His head is lying limply against Hunk’s shoulder, but he manages a nod. He has no strength left at all.

“How do you feel?”

He groans. “What’s…what’s wrong with me?”

The group is silent as they exchange worried glances.

“We don’t know yet,” Allura says. Lance has never seen her look so soft and sympathetic. “But we’re going to figure it out. Don’t worry, Lance. You’ll be alright.”

“I’m just going to hook you to this IV,” Coran says, suddenly appearing at his side with a needle. “Won’t hurt a bit, I promise.”

And as it turns out, it doesn’t hurt. Keith holds his hand anyway, but Coran is surprisingly quick and efficient in baring the vein and inserting the needle. A part of Lance is surprised that there’s no alternative Altean way to put it in considering the rest of their medical advances, but he’s too tired to question it.

Hunk lays him down gently again. Everyone is staring at him with some level of concern, and he’s really starting to get tired of it.

“Can we get you anything, Lance?” Allura asks.

He shakes his head. He wants many things, but he’s sure not even Allura can get them for him.

“Let’s let him rest,” Shiro says. Then he leans over Lance again, flesh hand momentarily resting on his shoulder. “We’ll be on comms if you need anything, okay?”

Lance merely nods again.

Hunk cups a hand over the top of his head. “Feel better soon, man.”

“Get some rest,” Pidge says with a small grin.

“Sleep well, Lance,” Allura says.

Coran gives him a warm smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes. “Don’t worry your primitive little brain one bit. We’ll get this taken care of.”

Lance smiles back. “Thanks, guys.”

They file out of the room in a line, but the heavy atmosphere does not leave with them.

Neither does Keith.

He’s still sitting beside the bed, eyes trained on his lap and a blush reddening his cheeks. “Do you mind if I stick around for a while?”

The relief that washes through Lance is incredibly immense. He really doesn’t want to be alone. “No. Of course not.”

Keith nods and scoots a bit closer to the bed. Slowly, he reaches a hand across the mattress and takes Lance’s in it. And then, suddenly, his face crumples and he’s bending over the mattress to rest his head against Lance’s arm with a shuddering exhale. “You scared me so much, Lance. I thought you…I was so worried you’d…”

This has just been a day for new experiences all around. Lance never thought he’d see his boyfriend this torn up, about him of all things. Keith’s outbursts always tended to err on the side of angry, not fearful.

He must have been in bad shape to scare him so much. It’s unsettling and heartwarming at the same time.

Lance pries his hand free and uses it to comb through Keith’s hair. “M’sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Stop apologizing, idiot. It’s not your fault. Just…just get better, okay?”

“Yeah.” His eyelids are so heavy. The fatigue from the fever and the vomiting and the emotional rush is crashing over him like a tidal wave. “M’sure I’ll kick this…whatever it is real soon.”

“You better.” Keith finally lifts his head and fixes Lance with an intense stare. “We need you, Lance. I… _I_ need you.”

Lance closes his eyes and gives a tired smile. “Wow, you sap.”

Keith huffs out a laugh. “Go to sleep.”

The last thing Lance registers is Keith’s soft lips on his brow and a warm feeling of _maybe he can be my home, too_ filling him before he falls fast asleep.


End file.
